


What They Said When You Ran Away from Home

by Apple_Fairy



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, teikoku asakiku
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-05 19:43:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12800997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apple_Fairy/pseuds/Apple_Fairy
Summary: Arthur has dropped in for another visit, and while Kiku is expecting his usual annoyances, he finds that Arthur is different. That in his own way he's feeling some emotional growing pains. And Kiku worries. Pirate!England/Imperial!Japan





	What They Said When You Ran Away from Home

“You’re horrible with people,” Kiku hums, “aren’t you?”

At first, Arthur doesn’t respond. He lies on his side, back to Kiku, soaking in sun on the veranda. For a moment, Kiku wonders if he’s fallen asleep, but finally Arthur lets out a throaty chuckle.

“You wouldn’t be the first person to tell me that.”

Arthur’s visits weren’t foreign to Kiku. At this point it was even expected. There would be excuses, of course, something about a trade negotiation, something about stocking up at port. But in the end Kiku knew that Arthur just liked to find a reason to visit him. He was still trying to figure out why (Did he like antagonizing him? Was he lonely?), but for now that didn’t matter. Kiku found himself once more entertaining his guest, who had chosen to act like a lazy and clingy cat. Lounging, but not too close, as Kiku did his work. Kiku looked back down to the paperwork, shaking his kimono sleeves away from his wrist as he wrote something down. Their topic had winded down a road from something benign, into the eventual discussion of why Arthur was there. This time he had not entered with his usual bravado and self-importance, acting as if it was a great compliment to Kiku that he had decided to see him. No, this time Arthur had been quiet. It’s very rare that Arthur is quiet.

It unnerved Kiku. In an attempt to get back on more familiar ground, he had cut into him with a slight insult. He was strangely relieved when Arthur had snarked back.

Arthur stretches, letting out a low groan, and Kiku tries to not notice the way his shirt stretched, or how long his arms reached. He was beginning to realize he was worried about him.

“Is that why, then?” He says instead, “You can’t find anyone else to take you in?”

“Oh, please. I have plenty of people who would beg me to stay with them.”

This was a face-saving lie, Kiku knew that, and he was happy to see Arthur was still in there somewhere. Arthur looks behind his shoulder and smirks when he finds Kiku staring.

“Besides, aren’t you beside yourself with joy to see me again?”

“I’m not really in the mood to babysit.” Kiku corrects him, and Arthur laughs. He rolls on his back, his hands behind his head and he closes his eyes.

“I just didn’t feel like being home.” Arthur finally says, and it’s a sentence that settles in the air between them, impeding and final.

It’s rare for Arthur to open up. It’s rare for  _either_  of them to open up. Their relationship was based on scathing remarks and mutual animosity. Arthur liked to rile Kiku up. Kiku liked to cut him down. Perhaps more than they knew themselves, they both knew the other’s weaknesses like the back of their own hands. Arthur was lonely. Kiku was insecure. They were both frightened, and they always loved to remind each other of this fact. And try as they might to act like this didn’t affect them, in their own ways they hurt. So to confide in the other some kind of weakness was strange. It’s not really that it was acted on, but more so that both of them had issues with trust and stuck to those ideas. Kiku balances this moment in his mind, and tries to understand Arthur’s maneuver. He’s not thinking about using this against him. He finds he only wants Arthur to explain. He masks this in their usual banter, and pursues.

“So they kicked you out?” He asks matter-of-factly.

“It’s more like I kicked myself out.”

“Did something happen?”

Arthur stops talking again. Kiku recalls a month ago, a moment he had with Francis. They were discussing politics as usual, and Kiku, playing indifference, had asked about Arthur.

“Perhaps he’s ill.” Francis had shrugged, “He seems more quiet than usual.”

Then there was a joke about how thankful Francis was, but at that point Kiku had stopped listening. He shouldn’t have asked about him, he realizes. It says too much about him when he asked. In the present, it only takes Arthur a few seconds to answer, but it’s a long enough wait to make an impression.

“Not really. It’s not like there was some huge scandal. I just…” he trails off. Kiku tears his eyes away from him and goes back to writing. He dips his pen in the ink pot, and tries to focus on this. He worries he’s focusing too much on Arthur.

“Do you ever get sick of it?” Arthur asks.

“Sick of what?”

“Them.” he waves his hand vaguely, “All of them.”

Kiku frowns. He doesn’t like that Arthur’s making him work for the explanation. He already regrets worrying about him, he didn’t see any reason why he had to decipher it all too. He wonders if Arthur is doing that on purpose or not.

“I mean,” Arthur continues, “do you  _really_  think your royal family is descended from a goddess?”

For a swift moment, Kiku wants to throw the ink pot at Arthur in rage. He suppresses the urge. The insult is there, but he can tell it wasn’t intentional, so he lets it go.

“What are you getting at?”

“I’m immortal, Kiku, but I don’t feel like it.”

Instantly, and despite himself, Kiku’s heart softens. It was something in the way he said his human name, and something in the way he sounded so fragile. Kiku wants to resist it, but he can’t.

“We have people telling us what to do all the time.” Arthur goes on, his voice soft and reluctant, “Go here, fight that, say this. Act like this, talk like that, dress like them. I’ve been around for a long time, but I think this may go on forever.”

It begins to dawn on Kiku just how young Arthur is. Try as he might to resist, Kiku ends up looking at him again. Kiku couldn’t recall then just how old Arthur was, but Kiku can remember his own age. And even though it wasn’t much, he still had more experience on Arthur and it all felt so nostalgic. Kiku had never thought too much on the topic, but Arthur was just young enough to. He had forgotten, but at a time Arthur had been a budding nation too. And although he never showed it, Arthur was more introspective then he should’ve been. He was giving a glimpse of his thoughtful side, and Kiku found it refreshing. He slides his eyes away.

“As nations, we need a society. It’s our backbone.” Kiku explains, “Having leaders is just a part of that.”

“I know  _that_. I’m not stupid,” Arthur sighs, “I guess just…I miss rainy days. I miss my forests. Have you ever stood on the top of a hill and looked out at the moors before a thunderstorm?”

Kiku mutters a no. He already knows Arthur’s not looking for an answer, but an excuse to talk.

“Well, you should. It’s  _breathtaking_. The air is just filled with this expectation, like it’s holding its breath.” Arthur speaks with awe, “I just feel I don’t have time for that anymore. Being on the ocean is the closest feeling I have to that now.”

Kiku isn’t sure what to say in return. He wants to comfort him, but he also doesn’t want to be too honest. Their relationship always had all these unnecessary twists and turns to navigate. There was a cycle, but Kiku wasn’t willing to break it. Yet, he also didn’t want to fall back into it, so they were in a subconscious stalemate as Kiku tried to find the right words.

“I should take you to see it one day.” Arthur continues, “Then you’d understand.”

What Kiku wanted to tell him is that he  _did_  understand. Kiku did not have rainy seasons or green hazy moors like Arthur did, but he had something similar. Kiku had misty mountains and vibrant seasons. He had shrines he wouldn’t mind visiting, because their very presence felt ancient and tranquil and familiar. He was surrounded by oceans of rolling waves and he stood on land that would always be his, and his alone. He knows this is what Arthur is talking about, but he hesitates to share. He’s too busy being taken in by the proposition to visit England with Arthur. There was something so intimate in that suggestion, something so domestically sweet. It was honest, and young. So instead of relating with him, Kiku lets himself be romantic.

“Is that why you came here? To steal me away?” He jokes, putting his interests behind layers of indifference. Arthur laughs.

“You’re so dense sometimes. No. I came here because you’re the closest thing I have to any of that.”

Kiku blushes. It’d be right to even say he turns scarlet. Despite weaving his way through all their turns and curves, Arthur manages to trip him up. Kiku’s not offended because he felt something for Arthur, but more that Arthur was able to catch him up. When Kiku looks at him again, he finds Arthur smiling, not smirking.

Kiku’s not used to someone telling him he feels like home. Not in such an intimate way, at least. Arthur was trying to get his bearings back, and somehow Kiku was able to re-center him. With that confession alone, all tensions seemed to dissipate, and Arthur looked comfortable again. He turns on his side again, turned towards Kiku, and he balances his head on his hand.

“Told you.” He teased, “You’re beside yourself with joy.”

With that, they were back to their usual again. Kiku feels anger boil in the bottom of his belly, and he feels insulted. He knew he was showing too much care for him. He should’ve been more careful. And he wishes he wasn’t so flattered by all the attention, because that was the worst part of it all. But Kiku, quick on his feet as always, gives a slight smile and a response.

“If you want to be my colony so badly you should simply ask.”

Arthur’s face falls.

“I never said that.”

“But aren’t you admitting my country is better?” Kiku points out, “If mine feels more like home?”

Arthur’s face goes from confident bragging to indignant annoyance. Kiku can tell that inwardly Arthur was fighting himself. To correct Kiku was to admit some deeper affection, but to let it go was like saying Kiku was right. Kiku feels some satisfaction from this turmoil, and he decides to change the topic for them.

“I think we all feel that.”

“Feel what?”

“Like it doesn’t matter if we’re immortal.” Kiku clarifies, “As if we have lost something.”

Arthur is silent.

“Politics are complicated and people are always changing. These are just facts of life. I believe you seeing all this is just an example of your growth. Yet…”

“Yet?”

“We will always be here. We have always been here, and we will continue still. They can’t take this away from us. We’ll always have something to call our own and that’s ourselves.”

Arthur’s eyes are wide and something was taking root in him. Kiku can’t speak for his mind, but he can tell his words have an effect on him. He already knows Arthur won’t share it with him, and he is fine with this. There were still things they kept to themselves. Instead he lets it go, and gives a wry smile.

“I didn’t think your pride could be shaken so easily.”

“It’s not-”

Kiku raises a hand to stop him, and Arthur obeys instinctually. In the moment after, Kiku puts down his pen and stretches himself, arms raised above him, letting his muscles ache. He casts a glance to the sky outside and blinks.

“I believe that’s enough work for the day. Will you come with me?”

“Where?”

“I’m in the mood for a walk.” Kiku drops his arms, and looks at Arthur haughtily, “Perhaps I can show you what I miss as well.”

It’s Arthur’s turn to blush, and although Kiku doesn’t show it on his face, inwardly he’s pleased. Arthur pouts, and looks to the side.

“If you’re just lonely, say it.” He mutters in a half-hearted attempt at insulting him. Kiku smiles, and gets up. He offers a hand to Arthur, and the other watches it carefully.

It’s not infinitely profound, and it’s a rare moment as any. They will not be so honest with each other for a long time afterwards. But it was its scarcity that made it special, and the understanding that mattered. Their conversations will be the same childish banter but their hearts were changed. Arthur takes Kiku’s hand and its warmth sends tremors through their bodies.

Kiku wants to tell Arthur that he felt the same. That Arthur also held the same feeling as home, as changing seasons and quiet winters and as the smell of spring. Arthur was stupid and full of himself and bratty but, by God, he felt like home.

Kiku doesn’t tell him this, because he doesn’t need to. In his own way, he already did.


End file.
